The Screaming Fury
by MadameMorganLeFay
Summary: And suddenly, Morgana remembered that trapping Merlin inside her hovel was a terrible idea. One-shot. Mergana.


**The Screaming Fury**

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"Leave me alone, Morgana!"

The malignant High Priestess imitated Merlin's anguished cry in a higher register, laughing as she did so. She then stepped quickly over to the ragged bundle that was Merlin, his hands tied together behind his back, the ropes chafing his wrists, and her musky scent filled his senses, and made disobedient, sinful thoughts creep into his mind. Morgana must have seen it, he thought desperately mortified, he could almost see his eyelids droop, and his mouth start to glisten as he moistened the surfaces of his lips.

"Hungry, Merlin?" Morgana taunted him, before tracing a finger across his cheekbone. "Or are you simply pleased to see me?" she whispered, her face inappropriately close to his, making Merlin make a strangled noise from within his throat. "Yet you might even be feeling the ropes cut and graze your precious skin; maybe I should slacken them..." She revelled in the way his eyes lit up for a bleak moment- in fact, they had always been exquisite eyes, she thought randomly- almost as though his maker had cut tanzanite so perfectly and gifted them to this boy... She quickly twisted her pensive, wistful features into a near-feral grin. "Or, on the other hand, maybe not. You're far too troublesome, Merlin."

Merlin stopped wriggling, his lips parted, breathing heavily. "You won't get away with this, Morgana," he warned in a gravelly tone that did something strange inside the High Priestess's stomach, flipping it over, turning it inside out. Maybe this was why she swallowed convulsively, and refocused once more, poking Merlin for good measure. He hissed and winced, then whimpered, closing his glistening eyes. "Arthur knows of your plans; he will stop you."

"Only because he doesn't want Camelot to fall; I take it he still thinks you completely deficient in intellect?" Silence proved her speculation, and she wriggled closer to him out of course. "Exactly- and I can deal with him from that angle. It isn't like he is going to inconvenience himself for a scrawny serving boy, is it now, my dear?"

Her words hurt, not because she delighted in sneering at her captive, but because he could not prove they were untrue. Even after he had gone and risked himself to distract Morgana, it was in the knowledge that nothing would ever come of his toil once he returned home. Right now, that was a rather big "if"; Morgana's eyes were making him feel dizzy, and just beyond her stood those dreaded rickety shelves stacked with pots, jars and phials of deadly substances which might end up forced down his throat for her own amusement. There really was no way he could win at the moment, except using that secret method he had been warned against. He was a fly trapped in a honey silken web- hopeless and doomed to die.

"Don't look so disheartened, my love; there is still a light for you yet. I keep asking you: why not join me? Your brains and my magic could surely bring down Arthur's prejudice? How about it, hmm?" She poked a sore spot on his arm for good measure.

"You know full well what the answer would be; else I wouldn't have troubled myself to pay a scheming minx like you a visit! You've got what you wanted, haven't you?" he added, shifting into a rare position that was actually comfortable; "Make it quick then!"

Morgana glared at him, striking him across the face. "Do not speak in such an insolent tone to the High Priestess, you unworthy specimen of a boy!" she hissed, forcing hatred out of her eyes, satisfied in the hurt (both physical and emotional) in Merlin's crystal, blue, blue eyes... She stood straight once it became clear she was gazing at him again, and retreated to her desk where she took long, deep breaths to calm herself.

Merlin was not going to be the reason she failed to dethrone her brother anymore, not if she took his advice and cut to the chase. But... right now, she was troubled by remembrances and an inconvenient passion that was best hidden from the both of them. So instead, she chose to watch her levitating hourglass, with such insane concentration that she was counting the individual grains of sand as they slid through the narrow channel down to the bottom. Occasionally, she would catch Merlin staring at her and it took all of her self-restraint not to return the favour.

Two hours passed in this unusual fashion, and when she dared allow her eyes to flicker over to Merlin, it was to find that he had finally fallen into a restful, if slightly tortured sleep. Morgana could now trust herself to creep out from behind her desk, and walk over to her catch, but this time, something was different; she appeared to be walking of her own volition without thinking about her steps, and this soon became evident in the way that she knelt down and untied his wrists with tender gentle hands that regretted their earlier blind cruelty... Morgana drew back in shock at what she was doing, but more of that emotion came from the ugly welts that decorated Merlin's hands.

She swallowed.

After about five minutes of thought, she leaned forward, and cradled his hands in hers... and now she was blowing on his sore, broken fingers, rubbing them...lovingly?...between her hands, wiping his face clean of blood with the sleeve of her laced gown, pulling him to lie down on a pile of rugs near a fire... Her fingers raked through his hair, across his face, down his neck and over his arms- he had grown, she noted with approval; he had always been far too skinny for her liking, but now she couldn't stop touching his firmer form. It was almost too tempting to lie besides him and share his body heat- there was that much resistance remaining in her yet.

But she couldn't prevent herself from leaning down to kiss his mouth softly- once...then again and again, even if she swallowed before doing so.

"Merlin... why do you do this to me?" she whispered brokenly, "It is all your fault, you traitorous, handsome, naïve boy..." She kissed him again and felt him whimper, shifting closer to her slightly.

Gods! The sorceress drew back, angry to find herself on the verge of tears! She could not be weak! This boy was her sworn enemy; there wasn't space for both of them in this kingdom... Morgana clenched her fists, whispering, "I hate you, Merlin," over and over again- she meant it, didn't she?

She trembled and turned away from the sight of Merlin's peaceful slumber. Of course, she wanted to mean it...because she knew that the fire of many years past had not abated...

And yet tomorrow she would still strive to see him dead.

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**I adapted this from a one-shot posted elsewhere. This was back when I was crazy on that trapped Merlin in Morgana's hovel during Series Four vibe. Totally sadistic, LOL.**


End file.
